


Hexen

by QuietPriestess



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Other, RDR2, Supernatural - Freeform, Werewolf, Western, Witch - Freeform, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietPriestess/pseuds/QuietPriestess
Summary: Raven Rourke was an orphan at age eight when Dutch van der Linde took her in. Raven mysteriously disappeared the night of her nineteenth birthday and was never seen again. Following any and all empty leads, the Van der Linde gang always came up empty. Until one night in Saint Denis, three years after her disappearance. ...but this wasn't the Raven they raised or remembered.





	1. Chapter 1

 

I couldn't feel anything, but yet I felt everything.

I laid in the street, unable to move and unable to scream.

It was dark—the Saint Denis backstreets only lit by dim streetlights that were few and far in between each other. It was late and late enough that everyone had moved indoors until the first light. By that time, I didn't know what I would be…if anything.

It felt as if my body was filling with liquid flame. It started in my toes, working its way up my legs, my stomach, arms, up through my chest and my neck, ending in my head that burned like blue flames.

The _heat_... The feeling of burning alive didn't stop. I choked on my screams. The pain was too intense to part my lips. The charring of my insides; burning every cell, every nerve ending, every fiber of me—paralyzed me even though I wanted to do nothing more than to writhe on the hard street below me. I wanted so desperately to escape the pain and cry out.

How long I had been laying here burning up from the inside, I didn't know. I was losing my perception of time and a dark heaviness fleeted across my body. Despite the agonizing burn, a feeling of an ethereal confusion sat at the forefront of my brain.

A slew of memories, unable to be stopped, flooded my thoughts. Vivid memories of my parents…when they were healthy and happy. Vivid memories of my parents…when they were sick and unwell. Vivid memories of their funeral. Vivid memories of running away because I didn't want to be put into an orphanage. I could feel the exact feelings and emotions of those moments. Memories of meeting Dutch, Arthur, John, who had become my father and brothers, and the rest of the gang as they filtered into our dysfunctional family. I felt the happiness, sadness, anger, jealousy, the confidence of each moment I had experienced in my lifetime.

The memories stopped with the night of my nineteenth birthday. A void of dead space between being taken and until now.

At the height of the pain, the hotter the burn, that is when I was able to see what had happened to me. That was when I was able to see who had taken me from my family.


	2. Chapter 2

****

**Arthur**

I was more than surprised when Dutch came home that evening from an outing in Blackwater back in 1889. I wasn't surprised that he came home, no. I was surprised by who he brought home.

We were a gang of petty outlaws. We didn't live normal lives and we sure as hell didn't work normal jobs. Dutch always found a way to keep our asses out of jail. Dutch had an understanding with the police in town. The sheriff would look the other way as long as Dutch paid up and there was no murder.

We owned a ranch outside of Blackwater called Beecher's Hope. Dutch had won the deed to the dust pit in a poker game inside town. When we moved onto the ranch, we lived like we had for the last several years—in tents. Dutch tried to make us all picture what it would be in the years to come, but it was hard for me. Dutch was always living in a daydream—fantasizing of things bigger than us.

But hell froze if he didn't achieve it. A sprawling ranch with a barn, livestock, and plenty enough cabins to settle a small community.

It wasn't surprising that Dutch had saved yet another orphan—me and John had been saved. It was just a little odd when Dutch came riding into Beecher's Hope that night and helped the little blonde girl down off his horse. It was never little girls Dutch helped to save. Maybe it just didn't happen often—little orphan girls wandering alone. Little girls just didn't need saving.

She was small, no older than ten years old. She had long, blonde hair and a set of wide, wild blue eyes.

He introduced her as Raven. He found her petting his horse in Blackwater. In the short amount of time he had been gone that evening, he had found out that she had lost both of her parents to consumption and had no other family. Even at her young age, she had decided she didn't want to live in an orphanage. She was smart and had taught herself to read a little. She was a bit of a sass and reminded me so much of Dutch already. She got on with Hosea and Bessie, all of us, but it was Dutch she clung to.

John and me, well, we had just gotten a little sister. At first, it didn't seem like it, but as time went on, she was the little sister we always wanted just never knew it.

* * *

When Raven first disappeared, I'm not proud to admit it, but I thought she was just being Raven and I didn't worry much.

Raven was a free-spirit. She only wore dresses on Sunday and that was only by request of Bessie and Susan. She was always off by herself for periods of time. She'd take her horse out early in the morning and wouldn't come home until late in the evening.

Dutch didn't like it at first, but he quickly found out the more he pulled, the further Raven would push. I'd always hear him venting to Hosea about how raising a daughter was much harder than raising a boy. Dutch and Hosea had their fill with raising John and myself, but it wasn't nearly like raising Raven. She was moody on some days and completely lovable the next. Dutch blamed himself—raising her like a princess, spoiling her rotten.

John didn't help matters much either. Raven and John were closer in age, only nine years apart. I was much older than the two, a good seventeen year difference between myself and Raven. They were closer and I figured it was the age difference.

Raven and John were always getting into trouble together. Stealing chickens, sneaking into the saloons, riding their horses out further than they were supposed to. Dutch would punish them, taking away their horses for the evening, but John and Raven would hatch a plan to get out of trouble. It usually ended up with Raven batting her big blue eyes at Dutch and crying a few crocodile tears. The two would be back at it the next evening. Raven had Dutch wrapped around her little finger.

There were the times Raven didn't like us much though.

When she started sneaking off with boys or bringing a boy home—John and myself never liked them for one reason or another. We'd usually scare them off at the end of the night. Raven would cry for days, wondering what she had done wrong. It wasn't until Raven was a little older, she got wise of her overprotective brothers and overheard a conversation we had with a boy she brought home.

She didn't speak to us for a week after that.

She forgave John before she forgave me. She said I was old enough to have known better to not do such an awful thing to my little sister.

I let her be angry. It wasn't even a month later that same boy she brought home had been picked up by the law and sentenced to hang for murders spanning across three states.

She didn't forgive me, but she did start being more careful in the people she freely gave her heart to.

Maybe that's what I thought happened to her… I thought maybe she had met someone, ran off for a little bit of time while they rolled around in what they thought was love.

And maybe I thought she was in one of her moods where she hated being surrounded by overprotective men and wanted to get away by herself for a little while.

I thought a lot of things, but I never thought that she wasn't ever going to come home.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

“What did you hear, Abigail?” John yelled as he slammed his fist down on the kitchen table of the cabin he shared with his wife and son. “You don’t have to yell, John Marston. I’m standin’ right here and can hear you just fine!” Abigail spat. John gritted his teeth together before letting out a deep breath.

“I just wish you wouldn’t keep this shit from me. You heard this two weeks ago and just now decide to bring it up.” John spoke through angry, gritted teeth. “This is _why_ I don’t want to bring it up. Every time we hear somethin’, you turn into a real hateful monster.” Abigail said as she watched Jack play outside from the window. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just…I…” John struggled to finish his sentence.

Abigail turned around to face John and frowned. “I know. I just don’t want to give you false hope. We’ve heard a lot of talk. We’ve followed _a lot_ of leads, John. It’s always an empty basket.” Abigail sighed. Abigail missed Raven as much as the others. They had become close when her and John first started dating. They became even closer when Abigail found out she was pregnant with Jack. They became like sisters.

“I can’t just figure every time we hear somethin’ new that it ain’t gonna lead us to where Raven is.” John sighed. He missed his sister terribly and felt an iron-clad obligation to find her.

“Where this time?” John asked. Against Abigail’s better judgement, she told him. “Tumbleweed,” Abigail shrugged. John shook his head. “She sure gets around, don’t she?” John scoffed.

They had heard rumors from Nuevo Paraiso to New York. They had followed them all. They always wound up finding absolutely nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

“It’s been three years…three goddamn years.” John said with a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Raven had been gone for three years. The next day feeling just like the day before—hopeless. How hard they had tried to find her…questioned those who might know where she is. And when someone didn’t have a good enough answer, they usually left them lay in pool of blood until they’d regain consciousness later.

At what point did they cease all actions in trying to find her? What if she didn’t want to be found? And what if they found something, they all was completely avoiding the thought of? John couldn’t let himself believe she was dead…. but it was starting to become a moot point in continuing to look for her. Maybe it was time they all mourned her death and start to move on with their lives.

Dutch wouldn’t hear of it, though. He was hellbent on finding his daughter. Alive or dead—he was going to figure out what happened to Raven.

“You goin’?” Abigail asked, knocking John out of his thoughts.

“Hm? What? Oh…I guess I better take it to Dutch. I know he’ll want to investigate the rumors.” John brought his attention back to his wife after she broke him out of the thought of his sister.

Abigail frowned. The situation of Raven had brought all of their lives to a halt. Time marched on, but they didn’t. They didn’t move forward. They had been stagnant since the night she disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

 

 

"Godforsaken town. There's no way in hell Raven would visit here let alone live here." Dutch said with the utmost disgust. He stood with Arthur and John at the front of the small town that was almost entirely void of civilization.

Dutch could admit that he liked the finer things in life. He prided himself on his appearance and on the grandeur of things he possessed. That trait of his had been passed onto Raven as she was growing up. He knew down to his core that Tumbleweed wasn't a place his daughter would enjoy. He knew she wouldn't run away to this.

"I don't know why we even came here. It was a long ride and for what? She ain't gonna be here." Arthur scoffed. Who in their right mind would want to live in this dinosaur cemetery?

"Abigail was sure this was the place she heard them talkin' about." John said. Arthur looked over at John and he could tell on his face that even he knew Raven wasn't here.

"We can't keep followin' all these rumors. A description of a blonde woman ain't enough proof to roam the entire country." Arthur said in dismay.

"We'd do it for you, Arthur. And this ain't just somebody we're looking for. Its Raven. And I intend to figure out where she is and what has happened to her. I'll go wherever I need to go. If you boys are ready to give up on the search, lord knows it's been a long and trying time, I can't make you keep looking but I'm going to find some real answers." Dutch said and directed his horse forward.

"I'll start with the sheriff. And since you're already here, you boys start at the end of the town—maybe start at the saloon." Dutch called behind him and rode in the direction of the sheriff's office.

Arthur wiped the sweat off his forehead and headed his horse in the direction of the saloon. "Let's go. Get our run around answers and get outta here." Arthur called behind him to John.

* * *

Dutch stepped into the ran down office of the sheriff. The heaviness of his boots almost feeling like the porch would cave underneath his grand step.

"Can I help you?" A man spoke from the desk shoved in the corner of the small room. He had his feet propped up on the desk. His boots were black and white snake skin that were scuffed up and looked as if they had been dipped into wet sand.

"I'm looking for the sheriff of this town. Are you him?" Dutch asked. "The one and only—Sheriff Forbes. How can I help ya?" The sheriff asked and pulled his feet from the desk, sitting upright in his chair.

"I'm searchin' for my daughter. Latest rumor is that she's been spotted in Tumbleweed." Dutch started to speak. The words still cutting his heart in half every time he spoke them.

"We don't get too many runaways. Hell, lotsa folk want to leave Tumbleweed not flock to it." Sheriff Forbes shrugged.

"I mean no disrespect when I say that I can see why, but I've become a bit desperate—no matter how hard that is for me to admit. I have followed every rumor for the past three years. The seem to become further and further apart, so I can't help but to try whenever I hear something about her whereabouts." Dutch confessed.

"Damn. You say three years?" Sheriff Forbes asked. Dutch nodded his head with a frown.

"I realize she is your daughter, but three years? Have you considered the worst? I hate to say it, but three years is a long time to be lookin'. In my experience, you would have found her by now." Sheriff Forbes said. A tiring long year tenure had left Sheriff Forbes less than compassionate and empathetic.

"Do you have children, Sheriff Forbes?" Dutch asked, taking off his hate and sitting down in the rickety wooden chair in front of the sheriff's desk.

"I do. A son who is one of my deputies. I have a daughter, too, she's ten. Not much of anything yet." Sheriff Forbes shrugged.

"Oh, but she will be." Dutch chuckled sadly. He could remember so vividly when Raven was that age. An innocent child, attached to his hip.

"Look, Mister?" Sheriff Forbes asked, realizing he hadn't gotten the man's name that was requesting his help.

"Dutch van der Linde," Dutch said without any emotion.

"Dutch van der Linde?" Sheriff Forbes repeated. "Leader of that van der Linde gang?" Sheriff Forbes asked in disbelief.

"We're not a gang. We're a family." Dutch corrected the sheriff. "Call it whatever you want but if it quacks like a duck, it's still a duck. Funny thing—we had received correspondence from Blackwater advertising for your arrest but then we got word not a day later that you were an innocent man and your gang posed no threat to civility. What's the odds in that?" Sheriff Forbes asked sarcastically.

Dutch couldn't help but to notice how Sheriff Forbes' interest had suddenly became peaked when he realized he was speaking to and how careless he seemed about Dutch's missing daughter.

"I'm no mathematician, Sheriff Forbes. I'm a concerned father." Dutch snapped.

"And I'm no miracle worker, Mr. van der Linde. It's been three years. Let her rest. Let her memory live on and you tread on." Sheriff Forbes said gruffly.

Dutch ticked his jaw to the side. His anger beginning to bubble up inside him.

"If she's alive, let her live as her own person and not as the daughter of a gunslinger outlaw. Wanted or not, that's what you are. Finish up your business and then get out of my town. I do my best to keep criminals like you out of the town. I don't want no trouble here." Sheriff Forbes warned, standing up at his desk.

"I didn't want any trouble and certainly didn't want to stir any up." Dutch said and stood up, putting his hat back onto his head. "I came for help." Dutch added and stepped towards the door.

"As I said, it's been three years. Carry on. Now, good day, Mr. van der Linde. I'll see to it that you're out of town by sunset." Sheriff Forbes said and pointed towards the door. Dutch frowned and stepped out of the door and onto the wobbly porch.

* * *

**A/N: I hope my readers are enjoying this story! :) It seems kind of like a slow burn type right now. Stay with me. Let me know how you're enjoying the story!**


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

"I'll talk to the bartender, see if he knows anything." John said as both he and Arthur stepped into the saloon at the end of town. The wallpaper peeled off the walls and the dull wood floor was stained with various colors-vomit, urine, blood for sure. A piano man sat at the piano at the far end of the room, underneath the staircase that led upstairs to the rooms available to rent.

Drunk men and soiled doves conjugated at the small round tables placed unevenly around the room. Loud laughter, women's flirty words, and the sounds of beer and whiskey bottles hitting the tables filled the rooms.

"No, I'll go talk to him. You mosey 'round here." Arthur said and stepped in front of John. "And what do you think I'm gonna get out of  _this_?" John asked as he waved his arm, sarcastically showcasing the room full of drunkards.

"What do you think we gonna get out of being in Tumbleweed? She ain't here, John. We gotta stop this." Arthur sighed. "What's wrong with you? Don't you care? Or do you only think about yourself anymore?" John snapped.

"Me? Only think about myself? Where do you think I went for six months this year past? To follow crazy rumors about where she was! I've looked just as much as you. I'm just not gonna keep believin' and holdin' out hope for the rest of my life. We're chasin' a ghost, John. A goddamn ghost." Arthur spat. He let out a deep breath. He had been holding in how he felt. Every time they went investigating another rumor, his heart split into two all over again. Just when he thought he had started to heal, here came the pain again.

"She's out there-" John started to protest against Arthur's feelings but John cut him off. "And how much longer are you gonna keep thinkin' that? Your boy is growin' up, John. He needs a father not a shell of one. And that's what you've been. Your wife, your kid...shit. You mighta lost your sister but you still have family left over. You just don't gotta treat 'em as such." Arthur said and walked away, heading over to the bar.

"What can I get ya? New in town?" The bartender asked as he finished wiping the bar with a stained, dirty looking rag. "Just passin' through." Arthur sighed. "Shot of whiskey?" The bartender asked. "Sure," Arthur said and threw out more than enough cash. "Rest is for you," Arthur shrugged and looked around the saloon as the bartender poured him a shot of whiskey.

"Thank you, sir." The bartender said and pushed the shot glass in front of Arthur. Arthur quickly downed the shot and put the empty glass down in front of him. "Another?" The bartender asked. Arthur shook his head no. "I'm lookin' for someone. Think you can help me out with that?" Arthur asked.

"Well I see a lot of people in here. Most I know...small town. But every now and again, I see some new faces. Usually just passin' through." The bartender said.

"I'm lookin' for a woman." Arthur said. "Like the ones in here?" The bartender chuckled and pointed towards the women littering the room.

Arthur laughed. "Not like them. Blonde hair, brown eyes, small..." Arthur trailed off. He shook his head. Many women would fit this description. It done no good to try and explain what she looked like.

"That all?" The bartender laughed. "Sorry, I can't help you." The bartender shrugged. "Wait," Arthur said and dug down in his satchel, pulling out his journal. He pulled out a photograph from between the pages.

He put the photograph down onto the bar and pushed it towards the bartender. The photograph was of Raven, Arthur, and John. It had been Bessie's idea. Raven had just turned seventeen and it was one of Bessie's last requests. When she got sick, she was all about family. She had always been that way, but when she knew she didn't have much time left, she wanted the three to promise they'd always take care of one another and always be there for each other. She wanted a photograph of the three. She said a photograph would come in handy when they needed to remember who they were. Raven was more than happy to oblige Bessie, who had grown into her beloved grandmother. Arthur had never understood Bessie's logic, but he went along with it anyway.

The bartender's brows scrunched together.

"You ain't heard?" The bartender finally spoke after staring at the photograph.

"Heard what?" Arthur asked, quickly picking up the photograph and stuffing it back into the journal.

"About the investigation takin' place in Saint Denis?" The bartender answered Arthur's question with another question.

"The investigation in Saint Denis?" Arthur asked, completely confused. "We may be at the bottom of the food chain down here in Tumbleweed, but we still got newspapers." The bartender scoffed. Why he had taken offense to Arthur's question, he didn't know.

"You gonna talk or am I gonna have to make you?" Arthur said through gritted teeth. His impatience and bubbling anger was going to get him an answer one way or another.

"I won't have no violence in my bar." The bartender warned. "Talk and there won't be." Arthur said puffing out his chest. He was ready for a fight if he came down to it.

"The answers your lookin' for are in Saint Denis. I just know they're investigatin' murders. They talk of a serial killer. And I can't be certain but that woman in the photograph looks a lot like one of the victims." The bartender said.

Arthur's heart dropped. He had imagined that something like this had happened to her, but hearing it from someone else's mouth, it made it seem all the more real.

"When did this happen?" Arthur asked. "It's been about a few years now. No leads." The bartender shrugged. "Newspaper is your best bet to find out if that's the woman you're searchin' for. They run it every week, lookin' for answers. Seems like a few die every week there anymore." The bartender said. "I'll stay in Tumbleweed." The bartender added with sarcasm.

"Thanks for your help." Arthur said and walked away from the bar. "John, let's go!" Arthur yelled over to John where he stood over the only overcrowded table in the place. Arthur continued walking out of the saloon and stepped down onto the dirt road.

John came jogging behind him. "Did you find anything?" John asked. "Did you?" Arthur scoffed back. "Everyone's too damn drunk to know anything." John shrugged. "Did the bartender give up any information?" John asked, prodding Arthur to answer.

Arthur stopped and turned to face John. "You're gonna keep your mouth shut, you got it? No runnin' to daddy Dutch. You hear me, John?" Arthur said, pointing his finger in his face.

"What is it, Arthur?" John asked, his own anger was beginning to rise in him. He just wanted an answer.

"We're makin' a trip to Saint Denis." Arthur said. A small smile started to lift at John's lips. "Don't smile yet. It don't look too good." Arthur said grimly. "I want to know for sure before I tell Dutch anything." Arthur said.

"What is it?" John asked. "I'll tell you on the way. Right now, we tell Dutch we didn't find shit and get outta here." Arthur said and turned and started walking back to where Dutch stood with the hitched horses.

"And when he asks where we're goin'?" John asked. Arthur rolled his eyes. "You know, you sound like a child. Leave that to me. Just keep your mouth shut. We didn't find a damn thing here." Arthur said. John let out a deep breath and agreed. Arthur usually had a reason for everything he done. John guessed he was just going to have to trust Arthur on the reasons for keeping their mouths shut.

* * *

**A/N: Question of the day: how are you liking the story?**


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